


How to Recover from a Fatal Wound

by Fangirlishness



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Season/Series 01 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-25 03:09:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4944499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlishness/pseuds/Fangirlishness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>When her hands started trembling, Eve finally realized that this must be an adrenaline crash. The return of the Library had been so exciting that she’d forgotten everything else. She’d just naively assumed she’d be fine after being healed like that. Stupid magic.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My quest to increase the number of explicit Evlynn fics continues...
> 
> This story was born from a discussion with [Greyathena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/greyathena), where we agreed that Flynn and Eve would either fall into bed together right away or it would take them ages. [Greyathena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/greyathena) is writing the latter: [This Time](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4428896/) (and you should totally read it it's so awesome). My story is about the former.
> 
> Thanks to [Neery](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Neery) for her unparalleled beta powers, hand-holding and advice on tropes, and to [Greyathena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/greyathena) for wonderful discussions, great advice, and for sharing my enthusiasm for the subtleties of the English language. 
> 
> Beta by [Neery](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Neery), [Sarren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarren) and [Greyathena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/greyathena). Thank you so much, all of you. 
> 
> All remaining mistakes are my fault.

  
  


The Library was back. Surrounded by her Librarians, Eve walked down one of the indistinguishable hallways of the Library, tall, interminable shelves stretching in every direction. Flynn led them through the maze of corridors, from one interesting artifact to the next, sharing anecdotes and adventures. He kept racing ahead and doubling back, reminding her of a puppy, as excited as she had ever seen him. 

She had to admit that her excitement was fading, though. Her head was buzzing and her feet were getting tired. For the hundredth time, she surreptitiously glanced down at her chest, checking that there really was no wound anymore. Of course, she saw nothing. It was as if there’d never been a wound at all. No blood, no hole in her shirt, nothing. Only a residual taste of blood in her mouth, overlaid with the hideously rancid taste of the Oil of Bathsheba that just didn’t want to go away. 

Jake stayed close to Eve the whole time, almost touching her left elbow. He hadn’t left her side since she’d gotten up out of his arms. She shook him off, straightening her back and lengthening her strides, which was a mistake. It sent a lance of pain through her forehead, and the buzzing in her head got stronger. She tried to relax her shoulders without slumping or slowing down.

“Eve, are you okay?” Jake asked. “You look a little shaky.”

“Of course I’m okay, I’m completely healed.”

Flynn turned around at their exchange and waited until they were caught up with him. He looked into her eyes, making her shift uncomfortably, and took her hand in his. “How do you feel?”

“I’m fine.” She tried not to snap at him. She’d had a long day, but he meant well. 

“We should head back,” Flynn decided, intertwining his fingers with hers and keeping pace with her and Jake. Disappointed whining from behind her told her that Ezekiel and Cassandra weren’t happy with the change of plans, but Flynn appeased them with the promise of a tour another day. 

Endless rows of shelves rolled by. She didn’t remember the way to the Annex, and she didn’t know where they were. When she tried to judge the dimensions of the hallways, the shelves started swimming in front of her eyes, making her nauseous. 

She focused on the floor, putting one foot in front of the other. She heard Cassandra and Ezekiel talking in low voices behind her, but she couldn’t really understand what they were saying. Their steps echoed back from the shelves, but the sounds seemed blurred and muted. That made her worry a bit, after all. 

She did feel a little strange. 

But it was no wonder. She’d almost died, and they’d cheated fate! No matter that Flynn said he didn’t believe in fate, she still thought it was too improbable to have worked. She knew she should have died. Although it didn’t feel quite as certain as it had two hours ago. Maybe the reality of the other universes was fading. Or maybe her emotions were just wrapped in cotton wool like her ears.

When her hands started trembling, Eve finally realized that this must be an adrenaline crash. The return of the Library had been so exciting that she’d forgotten everything else. She’d just naively assumed she’d be fine after being healed like that. Stupid magic.

But it was no use complaining. She’d been in similar post-mission situations before and knew what it felt like. She usually got really shaky and just wanted to lie down and sleep, and maybe cry for a while. If her headache was any indication, that point was approaching rapidly. 

In hindsight, she really should have gone home to get an energy bar into her stomach and sleep off her exhaustion. Now it was probably too late to get out without attracting attention. Both Flynn and Jake were already hovering, watching her. 

She just hadn’t wanted to leave. The LITs were so awestruck, and Flynn was so excited and happy, and there was nowhere she’d rather be. She sighed at her own stupidity.

Flynn moved closer to her, putting his arm around her waist. “We’re almost there.”

Her hand was tingling where he’d just let go of it, and her feet were tingling, too. They felt heavy, like she was walking through deep snow, and she kept stumbling over her own toes. It was hard to think. She put all her remaining energy into staying upright and keeping pace with them. 

“Where are we going?”

“To the Annex. And then home. You need to rest.”

That made sense. Home and rest. 

Jake opened a heavily decorated door and let all of them pass through. He walked past them again and opened another, this one unmistakably an Annex door. They had arrived at their destination. 

Jenkins greeted them with his usual lack of enthusiasm. He approached Eve and lifted her chin with his finger so she had to look at him. “Good. You’re alive,” he said. That was all he said, and when she didn’t answer immediately, he let her chin go and turned away again. 

That was weird, but when was he ever not weird? He came back with a high-backed chair for her, and Flynn let her glide down. She settled into it, thankful for the comfortable armrests. It was good to be sitting down. She felt sweat break out all over her skin. The crash was coming on in full force and she was just glad she hadn’t collapsed a minute earlier. Her hands and feet were still tingling, and the headache was now a constant throb behind her eyes. She leaned back and concentrated on her breathing.

“Are you going to be okay, Eve?” Flynn asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Give me a minute and I’ll come help you.” She tried not to move her head too much, and to look lively at the same time. She had a lot of experience in that area. Apparently, it didn’t work so well on Flynn. His face just never hid anything he was thinking, and now he clearly doubted her. She smiled at him, and he didn’t challenge her. He left her alone and joined the others. Relieved she didn’t have to prove her strength just now, Eve relaxed into the cushioned leather seat and watched her team.

They were helping Jenkins disassemble the machine they’d built. Both he and Flynn had assured them that the Library would stay anchored to the door. Eve trusted them, but she still couldn’t believe it had actually worked. Magic. It somehow still didn’t sit right with her. Science she could understand. There were rules and experts and it was all plannable. Magic, not so much. Well, she did have two experts on her side, and there had to be rules, too. Maybe she just didn’t understand them well enough yet. That was something to aspire to. She had only scratched the surface in those past weeks, and she was looking forward to learning as much as she could. 

She watched the LITs roll up wires and cables and chat happily with each other. Jenkins directed them here and there, and cursed at them as if they’d already broken all the valuable parts. 

Ezekiel was complaining about having to do his share of the work, as usual. But he clearly didn’t trust anyone else to dismantle the computer, either, so he was stuck with it. Jake was diligently putting away electrical components, shooting her a glance now and then. She smiled back reassuringly. 

Flynn was humming and sometimes outright singing. She thought she recognized snatches of Mamma Mia. It figured he’d be an ABBA fan. He still didn’t look like he belonged to the group. He flitted between everyone else and looked over their shoulders. But he obviously made an effort to cooperate, helping out whenever anyone asked him or handed him something. That was the first time she’d seen him doing that, and it filled her with satisfaction. It was going to take some time, but they’d make a good team yet.

Where was Cassandra? The last time Eve had seen her, she had been putting the storybook into the Annex’s “in”-shelf. Ah, there she came in again, carrying a glass of water. She brought it over and offered it to Eve. 

Eve felt a little embarrassed at being fussed over like this, but she really was thirsty. Near-death experiences probably called for hydration, adrenaline-crash-related headaches definitely did. She swallowed her pride and thanked Cassandra. The glass was moist and a little slippery in her half-numb fingers, so she was extra careful with it.

The water was wonderfully cool and exactly what she needed. She really should have thought of that herself. She drank it in slow sips, still watching the others walk back and forth as the work progressed. She found herself watching Flynn as he let Jenkins explain the Tesla coil to him. He nodded along and she watched his eyebrows shoot up in appreciation or draw together in disbelief as Jenkins pointed out its electrical properties. Jenkins looked alarmed when Flynn took it from him and examined it, and snatched it back quickly. She didn’t understand much of it, but it sounded like they were both guessing more than anything. They were so occupied with their little debate that they’d stopped working, even though there was still so much to do. She really should be helping instead of sitting around uselessly. She felt a lot better already. 

She pushed herself up out of the chair—and promptly sat down again. Her head was killing her. Her feet still hadn’t seemed like they wanted to provide her with feedback. It was no use, she had to get home to her own space. She wasn’t looking forward to the trip there, or to spending the night alone with her memories. She always dreaded post-mission nights, but there was nothing she could do about that, so maybe it was better not to think about it at all.

She looked around to see if anyone had noticed her attempt to get up, and caught Flynn looking at her. Damn. He’d already been suspicious before. The question was: how was she supposed to get home if she couldn’t even get up? The only thing she could think of was to pretend to fall asleep until everyone else had gone home. That wasn’t such a bad idea, seeing as her hands and feet were already falling asleep, anyway. It wasn’t a stretch at all. 

She closed her eyes and deliberately let her head slump against the headrest. Win-win.


	2. Interlude

Flynn enjoyed the feeling of a good day’s work well done. Finally everything was put away again in Jenkins’s workshop, and the two of them were walking back to the Portland Annex. Cassandra made a shushing motion at him as he pushed open the door. She was pointing towards Eve. Flynn repeated the motion to Jenkins, letting the door shut behind them quietly.

“Poor Eve,” Cassandra said in a low voice. “But we can’t leave her here. We’ll have to wake her.”

“Hmm.” Flynn looked at Eve’s slumped form. She still looked exhausted. “Maybe we can let her sleep a little longer. I’m staying here anyway. I’ll make sure she doesn’t spend the night in that chair.”

“Okay… I guess she deserves as much sleep as she can, after what happened to her today.” Cassandra smiled at him, “I need some sleep, now, too.” She picked up her jacket and waved goodbye.

Jake and Ezekiel apparently had already left. Only Jenkins was still standing at the table, having watched the exchange stoically. He always reminded Flynn of a perfect butler. Until he opened his mouth.

“I trust you have everything well in hand, Flynn. I’m going to retire, too.”

On rare occasions, Jenkins apparently even sounded like a perfect butler. Who knew. “Have a good night, Jenkins.” If that was even possible after the day he’d had. 

Flynn was still looking at the pattern on the door long after Jenkins had gone through it. He took a few deep breaths, turning slowly, and looked around the Annex. All was as he remembered it again. Quiet, comfortable, and with the Library back behind that door. Everything was as it was supposed to be. 

He felt a weight lift off his chest. He was home again. They’d done it. The Library was back, and he’d barely even helped. 

It felt good to have a team. He wasn’t used to having them around yet, but they weren’t quite as annoying as he’d thought they would be.

A deep breath from behind him reminded him of Eve’s presence. He crouched down in front of her, careful to make no sudden movement. She looked exhausted, true, but her features were relaxed and soft. So different from her usual fierce presence. He felt like holding her hand and petting her hair. Not what he normally felt when he looked at her. Other things came to mind then. Challenged. Aggravated. Amused. Confident everything would turn out okay. He’d never doubted her skills for a second. And here she was, small and vulnerable. She had almost died today! His stomach clenched; it had been so close. She’d only just come into his life, and he hadn’t had time to get to know her yet. 

He had to blink a few times to make his eyes focus again. It was so hard not to reach out and touch her. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth to quell the impulse. Just to make sure she was really alive, he listened to her breaths and watched her chest lift and fall. It felt like he was intruding on something private—she wouldn’t want him to see her like this—but he couldn’t look away. 

He’d known caring about her would complicate his life. He’d tried to turn her away. He’d told her unmistakably that he couldn’t let anyone close again. She’d even agreed! But then she’d barged in regardless and turned everything on its head. He’d never stood a chance. He wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret a thing. Some part of him—he suspected it might be his heart—was happy she was there. She had breached his defenses, being the formidable fighter that she was. She knew what she wanted and she was good at her job. 

It was difficult to reconcile this lovely sleeping form with the tough woman she was when awake. He wrapped his arms harder around himself, hoping he wouldn’t have to steal moments like this in the future. He wanted her to open up to him. He wanted to be close to her all the time. He wanted to be the one she trusted. He didn’t want to waste a minute, not a single second, away from her. He wanted to see all of her, the good and the bad, the weak and the strong. 

It was suddenly hard to breathe.

He flopped backwards and stretched out on the cold floor, taking in the shadowed high ceiling. His heart was beating too fast, but all he could do was grin. He was in love. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like. The Library had known before he did, that sly bastard. From that one meeting in Berlin, where he’d been preoccupied and hadn’t realized what he’d stumbled on, the Library had felt it, and had acted on it immediately. How could it have taken him this long to see it? It was so obvious now. He should be annoyed that it had chosen her for him, but how could he be? She was here now, and she was alive, and he was in love with her. 

He looked back at Eve. From this angle her posture looked even more uncomfortable. She was doubtless suffering from an Oil of Bathsheba hangover, and he knew from experience how those came with waves of exhilaration alternating with exhaustion. It took the body a few hours to stop overcompensating for the magic. Skipping dinner and sleeping in a chair definitely wasn’t conducive to a quick recovery. He had to wake her sooner or later. 

She still looked like she was deep in sleep, but the rhythm of her breathing was a little irregular now. Maybe it was a good time to wake her? Reluctantly, he pushed himself up to a sitting position again and pondered his options. The first thing he needed to do was take the empty glass that was wedged beneath her arm. He carefully plucked it from her lap and set it on the table. 

Now what?


	3. Chapter 3

Someone was shaking her shoulder. Eve’s eyes snapped open and she tried to stand, her reflexes taking over. Unfortunately, her legs weren’t getting with the program. All that happened was that her upper body lurched forward. Flynn jumped backwards, raising his hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

Eve just barely caught herself on the armrests before she could fall to the floor. “What? Did I... ” She tried to remember where she was. Flynn was the only one in the Annex with her and the lights were low. It must be late. 

“You fell asleep. I’m sorry I had to wake you. How are you feeling now?” He leaned down close to her face and peered into her eyes.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” She leaned away from him and glared at him.

“I just… I know how it feels to get healed by Bathsheba and I wanted to know if you were all right. I just hoped you wouldn’t experience any negative side effects, but I guess that was wishful thinking on my part, so… how bad is it?”

She considered his question, forcing herself to think logically after the shock of being woken up. Moving her hands and feet experimentally, she assessed that the situation was unchanged. Did she need to worry about any more unforeseen magical consequences? She’d better be honest with him.

“It feels like an adrenaline crash, maybe a little on the strong side,” Eve sighed. She rubbed her eyes, forging on, “I’m losing sensation in my hands and feet. I can still mostly feel my hands. My fingers were tingling before, but now they’re going numb. My feet are completely gone.” 

Quietly, she added, looking past him, “I don’t think I can stand.”

“Ah, damn!” Flynn whirled around, throwing his hands into the air. “I knew it. This is completely my fault. I’ve had this before. I really should have realized it sooner and told you what to expect. You have to eat and you have to get some sleep. But not in this chair. Wait, I’ll help you.” 

He didn’t make any attempt to help her, though. He was still pacing. It would be funny if she wasn’t so helpless. As it was, his agitation was starting to worry her. 

“Flynn, talk to me. Will it get worse?”

He finally turned and went to his knees in front of her, “No, no, don’t worry. It’s not that serious. You’ll have a bad hangover if you don’t eat enough soon. And your body will need time until it has reached equilibrium again.”

Eve leaned back and took a deep breath. “I already have that hangover.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he said, catching her gaze. 

“I’m not worried.” In fact, she was - touched. Her own reaction surprised her. Usually, the idea alone made her bristle. She hadn’t needed anyone to take care of her since she’d broken her arm falling off her bike when she was nine. Her mother had taken her to the hospital in Perdenone, and Eve had sat on her lap for ages before a doctor had come to see them. She remembered the nurse fussing over her and complimenting her on her fluent Italian while she was putting a cast on Eve’s arm.

Flynn jumped to his feet, startling Eve back to the present. “Food. Food is paramount. There should still be something edible at my apartment.” He took a few steps but stopped and whirled around again, “We just have to get there. Or you could wait here until I get back with dinner. Or, no. No. You should come with me. Okay, let’s see. We’ll try. You should be able to walk with help. Right?” He looked at her.

She shrugged. “Let’s try.”

He gave her an encouraging nod, then gripped her numb hands in his and pulled. It wasn’t graceful, but he got her to her feet. 

She leaned on him, her feet holding the rest of her weight. For now. She noted that moving hadn’t given her a headache this time. She hoped that meant Flynn was right and the worst was already over. 

“I can lift and move my legs if I concentrate.” She just couldn’t feel her feet touch the floor. She was glad no one but Flynn got to see her like this. Her plan of getting home unseen hadn’t worked, but if she had to choose, Flynn was the least painful option. She had held him up for a whole day. He owed her. “I think we can… how far is it?” She realized that she had no idea where he lived.

“Not far,” Flynn answered in a strained voice. He pressed their hips firmly together and pulled at her arm over his shoulder to get them moving. They limped out of the Annex together, and after a few steps found a working rhythm. She watched her feet as they dragged on the floor, concentrating on keeping time with Flynn. They made steady progress, their hipbones bumping, his arm uncomfortably warm around her waist. His bony shoulder was starting to dig into her armpit and his breathing was sounding more and more labored. She conceded that she hadn’t had to carry him the night he was dying. She’d mostly just hovered close by, hoping she’d be able to catch him in time. He had the tougher job tonight.

“Just a few more steps,” he said, his voice loud so close to her ear. Was he trying to reassure her or himself? She would have made a quip about it, but she couldn’t get the words out. Even though they had the rhythm down now, walking still took all her concentration. She hoped at least he wasn’t kidding about them almost being there. 

In fact, she only counted ten more steps until Flynn slowed down and they stopped in front of a door. She held on to the door frame while he fished for a key in his pocket. 

The door actually had a plaque on it that said “Librarian”. How helpful. 

Flynn unlocked it, inserted himself under her shoulder again, and helped her inside. She lifted her head to get a good look around, breaking their stride. Flynn huffed but stopped with her. She hadn’t expected there to be an actual apartment, even though she’d suspected that Flynn lived at the Library. They were in a kind of atrium filled with books. She had expected those. The style, on the other hand, looked nothing even close to what apartments should look like, to her eyes. The ceiling was too high, and bright light from an obscure light source suffused the room. There were ornamental columns surrounding an empty basin, for crying out loud. She wondered, not for the first time, which cultural era the Library originated from. “How old is this place?”

“Probably as old as the Library. It belonged to Judson, and I think he’s over 2000 years old. Was. I tried to ask him once, but he tended not to answer my questions.” Flynn straightened up and his fingers dug into her hip again. “Come on, we’re nearly there.”

They lurched into what was recognizably his living room. Books were everywhere. Not only on the shelves, which lined every wall, but also on the floor, on the side tables, and even on the couch. The ceilings were not as high and the ambient light felt a little more comfortable than in the atrium-hall. She could see Flynn feeling at home here. He had a TV, too, which surprised her. She’d just always assumed he spent all of his time reading. 

“How long have you been living here?”

“Ever since Judson… didn’t need it anymore. He let me move in about four years ago. How do you like it?” He turned his head towards her, but he was too close for her eyes to focus on him properly. 

She took in the room again. “Looks like it’s the most comfortable room in the Library.” 

“You’re not wrong,” he said, and there was a smile in his voice. 

They steered towards the couch. She made the mistake of looking at their target when they had almost reached it, and her foot caught on the edge of an antique-looking rug. She stumbled, suppressing a curse, and tightened her arm around Flynn’s shoulder in reflex. That didn’t help, of course, just tilted them even more off-balance. In a surprising spinning maneuver, he managed to bridge the remaining distance to the couch and they landed on it in a heap, the breath pushed from their lungs. 

She groaned in embarrassment and quickly scrambled away from him, pushing on his chest—she could still feel her palms if not her fingers—and tried to find a more dignified position. Her feet were throbbing now, but the only external sensation was the pain in her calves where she had banged them against the couch. 

She untangled her feet from Flynn’s and checked if they were still attached. It looked to be the case. Her fingers also looked undamaged, and she tried to straighten her rucked-up shirt without making it too obvious that she was working with visual feedback only. Everything was under control. She heard Flynn groan and saw him roll his shoulders out of the corner of her eye. She tried to keep her gaze steady, away from him, but when his body made a writhing motion, his knee touching her thigh, she had to look over. 

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He pulled out two books from beneath his back with a sheepish smile, and dropped them on the floor. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, catching her gaze. She froze, the tingling in her stomach taking her by surprise. Just a minute ago, no, ten seconds, she’d been lying on top of him and couldn’t get away fast enough. Now she was anticipating him closing the distance again. She was starting to doubt her sanity. 

She leaned forward on her knees, breaking the connection, giving her time to think. “So, what have you got to eat?”

Flynn stood, sighing theatrically, and the sound of his vertebrae popping made her wince. Still stretching his back, he walked over to a corner of the room which had a few cupboards instead of the ubiquitous bookshelves. “I haven’t been here in over two months, but I don’t know how much time actually passed here while the Library was floating around in the void. It could go either way. Let me check.” 

“Can’t you just… I don’t know, fold your arms and wish for food?” she asked, only half-kidding.

“Ha, no. It doesn’t work like that,” he answered, “the Library’s not that kind of magic.”

He opened the fridge door and peeked inside warily, as if the contents were going to jump out at him. Nothing did, and he reached in carefully. He pulled out a pack of bacon, but as soon as he’d gotten a good look at it, he flung it away with a leap backwards. “Eww!”

Eve had to laugh at his reaction, “That bad?”

“The less said the better. Bacon and eggs are out.” He gingerly picked up the pack off the floor and dropped it into a trash can with an exaggerated shudder. He opened a cupboard. “Ha! Pasta. Pasta?”

“Yeah, pasta’s fine with me,” Eve said, still grinning. Carbs would get her back on her feet the fastest. Literally. Her little nap had helped, but she knew her headache was going to start up again soon if she didn’t eat or drink something. He’d apparently had the same thought, because he filled up a glass of water and brought it over to her. She accepted it with both hands and watched as he started setting up pots for pasta and sauce. 

“How are the hands and feet?”

Now that she’d been off her feet for a while, they had stopped throbbing, but when she tried moving her toes, she couldn’t feel them inside her boots. Her fingers still felt like they weren’t part of her body. She flexed them and watched how they moved. “Same.” 

“Yeah, I guess I didn’t expect anything else. I don’t think it’ll get worse, but it won’t get better until you eat something, either.” He looked back at her. “Do you remember when I had to drink the Oil of Bathsheba?”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “I duct taped your wound.”

“Of course. Of course you remember. But you didn’t notice the effects of the oil, did you?”

Eve thought back to the day Excalibur had stabbed Flynn. He’d seemed fine, for all that he’d had a fatal wound. He had been keyed up and jumping around but then sagging intermittently. She had expected him to die any minute. Not a good memory. After Excalibur had healed him, she had kept an extra close eye on him, just to make sure he was really not going to die. But even so, she hadn’t noticed anything alarming. He had seemed a bit shaky. She’d seen him stumble and almost fall once, on the way back, but she hadn’t thought anything of it.

Flynn had taken them to a small place in Covent Garden for dinner. He’d eaten a lot, she remembered that. He’d stolen Ezekiel’s bread roll and ordered a ridiculously large dessert. But she hadn’t known him then, and hadn’t had many opportunities to watch him eat, so she hadn’t known whether that was unusual for him. She shook her head. He hadn’t died. That was all that had mattered at the time.

Today it was her turn not to have died. She guessed that made them even, in a way. Although he hadn’t had anyone to watch over him then, and she did; tonight he was here with her.

His voice brought her back to the present. “Well, actually, Excalibur’s power buffered most of the crash, but before that, I was feeling the effects all day. I just didn’t have time to think about it. I know I slept like a baby that night, even with the time difference.” 

He approached her and extended a hand towards hers. “Let me see.” She could feel a tingle in her stomach that had nothing to do with her hunger and everything to do with how Flynn was looking at her. She paused, but then dismissed her own reaction. He was safe. She was safe. She set the glass down on the side table and put her hand in his, and he set to rubbing her fingers. He was standing and she was sitting and he wasn’t nearly as close to her as a few minutes earlier but somehow it felt more intimate. 

She cleared her throat. “That feels weird. As if my hand’s asleep. I can’t feel you touching my fingers, only my palms.” 

Why did she have to say anything? She tried to focus on something else, but she wasn’t sure she could lift the glass with one hand, and there was nothing else to do. She was forced to keep watching how he rubbed her hand between his hands, massaging it with nimble fingers.

She closed her eyes but that made it worse. Every time he moved to her fingers, she couldn’t feel his touch anymore, and as soon as it unexpectedly reappeared on her palm, it seemed to fizz up her arm and down her spine. She tried not to shudder and opened her eyes again. “There’s blood on your sleeve.”

Flynn’s hands tightened on hers, and again she wanted to swallow her tongue. The pain in his eyes took her breath away. “It’s yours.” His hands started rubbing again, and it was even harder to hold still. She was literally biting her tongue now. 

Flynn continued absently, “The magic mended your body and your clothes right along with it. A little overkill, if you ask me, but lucky for you. I guess I’ll have to clean my suit the old-fashioned way.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She’d already said too much as it was. How did you thank someone for saving your life, anyway? She’d saved a few people’s lives in her day, and she hadn’t wanted them to thank her, either.

She watched—and felt—his thumb trace circles on the back of her hand. Slowly, feeling began to return to her fingers in fierce, prickling waves. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she pulled her hand back and flexed her fingers. When she touched her fingertips to her thumb, she could feel it through the pain. “That helped. I think.” 

She debated not giving him her other hand, but he was already reaching for it. It really shouldn’t be a problem. She could take a few pins and needles and the rest… she could deal with that, too. She was already fighting to suppress her reaction to his touch again, when it came to her that she didn’t need to. Over the last few years of being the superior officer, she’d learned to ignore intrusions into her personal space by telling herself that she wasn’t a woman at all. It came so naturally to her now, she had to remind herself to relax. He was allowed to touch her hands, and she was allowed to enjoy it. 

When both her hands were prickling in stereo, she pulled free of his grasp and thanked him, even managing to look him in the eye as she did so.

Flynn leaned back and gave her an assessing look, his gaze wandering over her and lingering on her feet, but he didn’t say anything. After a second of hesitation, he returned to the pasta bubbling on the stove. She realized how strange it all was. She was in his apartment, he was making her dinner, and she was pretty sure he’d just thought about massaging her feet. 

She preempted any more speculation in that direction by starting the foot massage herself. Her fingers were still a little clumsy, but no longer so painful, and she could untie her boot laces without problems. While taking off her boots and socks, she managed not to blurt out how strange it felt to touch numb feet with half-numb fingers, and the massage seemed to be working for her feet as well as it had for her hands. She gritted her teeth against the prickling pain and worked through it.

When Flynn came back over to her a while later, his jacket and tie discarded, shirt sleeves rolled up, two bowls in his hands, she remembered how ravenous she was. He handed her a bowl full of steaming pasta tossed with tomato sauce. She couldn’t suppress a groan of delight at the smell, and dug in, balancing the bowl on her knees. And the taste! Incredible. It could just be the fact that she was starving, but she didn’t care. It tasted awesome and she was going to savor every last bite. 

Flynn got up from the couch to bring her a second helping. When her stomach couldn’t possibly fit any more pasta in it, she let herself fall back into the couch cushion with a sigh. Now that was what it should feel like to be alive!


	4. Chapter 4

Her belly was full, her hands and feet were warm and returning to normal, and the couch was soft and comfortable. Eve laughed and let her head roll to the side to look at Flynn. 

He was sitting on the couch, facing her with a smile, his shoes off and his knees drawn up to his chest. She realized that he must have been watching her for quite a while. That couldn’t have been a pretty sight, the way she’d been stuffing her face. She felt like she should be embarrassed, but she was brimming with energy. Nothing stood a chance against that. Flynn dropped his eyes, instead, and started fidgeting. Warmth flooded her at the sight. How could anyone be this cute? The impulse to just lean over and kiss him was strong. So she did. 

She propped herself up with a hand on his knee, watching for his reaction to her approach. He tensed under her hand, his eyes widening as they snapped back to her face, and she gently pressed her lips to his. They were so soft, and they parted for her so she could slip the tip of her tongue inside his mouth, past a small whining sound. Oh god, she needed more of that. She brought her free hand around to the back of his head, holding him steady so she could get closer. She'd kissed him twice before, but this time it was different. It felt like there was more of him. There was more texture, more sensation. His lips were moving against hers, the stubble around them scratchy, his tongue shyly dipping into her mouth. There was so much to explore, and she finally could—he wasn’t going anywhere this time.

Unfortunately, after a while, her neck started protesting the way she was twisted across the couch. Flynn’s knee was shifting under her weight and it was hard to keep her balance. Maybe she could get him to make room for her. She let her hand slide down his leg to his thigh, and his knees fell open. Delighted, she scooted forward into the space between them. She felt his arms wrap snugly around her and the joy inside her bubbled up to the surface. Her laugh sounded more like a hum, resonating in her throat, only a fraction of it escaping from between their lips. It made her lips tingle, and when Flynn licked his lips just as she licked hers, they laughed together. 

He reclined in her grasp as she bent to kiss him again, all tension gone from his body, his hands sliding up and down her sides. He was making low sounds deep in his chest with every breath, and they were driving her crazy. She spread her fingers into his hair and touched her other hand to his cheek. She slowly let it glide down to his throat and along his open shirt collar. She was rewarded with a moan and his head strained backwards against her hand. Oh yeah, skin contact. She kept kissing him and tried opening his vest buttons with her left hand, but they were tiny and stubborn. Flynn’s hand wrapped around hers gently, seemingly trembling a little, but with clear intent to take over. She conceded that he had more experience with his clothes, not to mention both hands free, so her focus went back to his throat. She moved her fingers over his skin against the slight resistance of stubble, feeling his pulse, tracing across his Adam’s apple, exploring the curves and angles. 

When he finally got the last shirt button open, she leaned back a little and looked down at his chest. She let her hand slide lower, left and right, pushing his shirt and vest open a little on each side. There were hairs on his chest, and she trailed her fingers through them. She checked his face. His eyes were heavy-lidded but not all the way closed, and he smiled when he saw her look. His hands moved from her hips up her front while he held her gaze, judging her reaction. His palms curved around her breasts and she couldn’t help pushing them out a little, but he didn’t linger. He brought his hands together above them instead, and opened the buttons on her shirt. He leaned in to push it off her shoulders, and she realized that she didn’t need to hold his head any longer. She lowered her arms, making it easier for him to slide it off her. They both reached for the hem of her undershirt at the same time, and in a joint movement stripped it over her head. 

She hesitated. It seemed suddenly embarrassing to take off her bra with his face in such close proximity to her breasts. But he looked up into her eyes, then, and said her name, his look so adoring that she forgot everything else and did the only thing possible: she leaned down to kiss him. 

He held on to her, his hands warm on her naked back. Kneeling in the circle of his legs, surrounded by him on all sides, she sighed contentedly and kissed him deeper, reveling in the feel of their tongues sliding against each other. His fingers were tapping up her spine and over her shoulder blades, making her skin tingle in their wake. It was no longer enough to kneel in front of him. What she really wanted to do was touch her skin to his bare skin, grab and lift him, pull him closer to her. But she couldn’t say any of that out loud. She pressed her forehead to his with a frustrated sigh. 

Miraculously, he understood what she wanted, anyway. He slid down, shifting forward on the couch, and she had to shuffle back to make room for him. It was clumsy, but she told herself that Flynn was no more coordinated than she was. It didn’t help that they both wanted to keep kissing. She tried following his mouth without losing her balance. When his head landed on the armrest, no longer a moving target, she was finally able to dive in properly. 

The couch was just barely wide enough for her to plant her arms next to his shoulders, and she lowered herself onto him with a sigh. Skin to skin, finally. She felt everything at once, his chest lifting under her, his lips wet on hers, his hands pulling her hips close. Their kisses got sloppier, her lips starting to feel the burn of his stubble, but it felt too good to even consider stopping. She realized that part of what felt so good was that her hips were moving against him without her noticing. She stopped and lifted her hips up a little, unsure whether she should be embarrassed about shamelessly rubbing up against him. But Flynn’s hands were already grabbing at her, pushing her down again, trying to make her resume her movement. Oh, so no embarrassment necessary, then. She complied happily with his insistent hands and plastered herself against him again, deliberately moving her pelvis against him. She hadn’t been consciously aware of how hard he was, but it was impossible to miss now. She just continued rubbing up and down, giddy with how good it felt. The thought that there were really way too many clothes between them came and went, drowned out by the sensations of friction between them, and all she managed was to tug at his belt ineffectually.

“Wait, wait.” 

What? He’d turned his head away and she was trying to recapture his mouth before she registered that he was talking to her. 

“Eve, wait.”

She sat up and blinked at him, uncomprehending. Settling back on his legs, she watched him while she tried to catch her breath. His eyes were screwed shut and his breathing was fast and shallow. 

“Flynn? What is it?”

“Nothing, nothing. Too much. Just… give me a minute.”

Huh. Oh. Okay, she could do that. If he didn’t want it to be over too fast, she could wait. She watched his breathing slow down and felt how her own did the same.

He inhaled deeply and said, “Um… stupid question. It just occurred to me that…,” his eyes slid away from her face. “Uh, you don’t happen to have a condom on you?”

Oh, shit. A cold shiver ran down her back. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She was supposed to be the responsible one. The thought that she had completely forgotten about protection sobered her. “I… no. No.” She shook her head.

For a minute, they both didn’t move. Flynn seemed to be lost in thought and Eve just sat stunned, watching him. Finally, her brain kicked into gear again. She wasn’t going to let this ruin her night. “You know, we could probably think of something that we don’t need condoms for.”

“Yeah. Right.” A smile spread slowly across his face, chasing away some of the tension. “I’m sure we could.” 

He let his hands drift up her arms and Eve was just about to lean forward again when he burst out, “Oh, but… bedroom! I might still have some in my bedroom. I’ll go look. I’ll be right back.”

He started to get up and she pushed up onto her knees so he could extract his legs from under her. He sprang up, narrowly avoiding their discarded shoes and weaving around a pile of books. He was already halfway back to the doorway through which they’d come in when she called after him, “Flynn, wait. Did you say bedroom? I’m coming with you. I’m way too old for this couch, anyway.”

He stopped in his tracks and whirled back around, his shirttails flying, a smile on his face. But then he narrowed his eyes, “Can you walk?”

“You’re not carrying me.” She wriggled her toes as proof that she was fine again. She fixed him with a stare and lifted her eyebrows, “If I can’t get there on my own two feet…”

She heard him laugh uncomfortably as she pushed herself up, and he cautiously watched her progress. But there was nothing to worry about: all across the Persian rug, her feet were sending her reassuringly normal feedback, woolly threads tickling her toes. She took Flynn’s hand and tried to make it seem like she knew where she was going.

Hand in hand, they went back out to the atrium, and Flynn’s bedroom turned out to be the next door on the left.

Flynn switched on the light to reveal a tiny room. It was no more than three steps from wall to wall. The only light was a reading light on the wall over the bed, making it dim and cozy, different from the ambient lighting in the other rooms of his apartment. There was nothing in it except for a bed on her right and an old wardrobe on her left. More antique than old, actually. Books lined a single shelf over the bed and there were two neat stacks of them on the floor. The light was too dim to see the titles, but she suspected she wouldn’t be able to recognize any of them, anyway. They looked like they belonged to the Library. 

Flynn left Eve standing at the door and stepped to his bedside table. She wiped her clammy hand on her pants and folded her arms in front of her chest, belatedly remembering that she’d left her shirt in the other room. At least the lighting was dim. She reminded herself that she had a bit of experience with one-night stands and some embarrassment was to be expected. But this wasn’t a one-night stand, was it? She liked him too much, and she worked with him, and he always seemed so vulnerable, and she really shouldn’t screw this up. 

Flynn turned back, a condom pack triumphantly held out in her direction. When she saw the skin from his chest to his belly peeking out of his open shirt, her stomach flipped, and she forgot what she’d been thinking about. 

He flung the pack behind him onto the bedside table. “How lucky is that? I had completely forgotten about those.” He extended his arms towards her in an inviting gesture, but then his eyes fell on his blood-spattered shirt sleeve. He winced, dropping his arms, and rubbed the spot distractedly.

“Flynn.” Eve reached for his hands, tilting her head to look into his eyes, “I’m still alive.” She pulled him towards her gently. He still looked a bit troubled, but he let her kiss him, his fingers tightening on hers. Finally, he melted against her with a sigh. 

It felt like her body had been reset, and everything was new again. Maybe even more innocent, the way they were standing apart, holding hands. Flynn’s lips were barely parted, and his nose was nudging hers in little upwards movements while she covered his mouth with small kisses. She let herself sink into the sensations on her lips and the warm puffs of breath on her face.

She didn’t notice how it happened or who started it, but at some point they lifted their clasped hands out to the sides together. Her breasts touched his chest, and they both groaned at the sensation. Flynn started backwards towards the bed, and she followed, not wanting to lose their connection. When his calves hit the bed, they overbalanced and tumbled onto the mattress, but nobody got an elbow in the ribs this time, or a book in the back, and she counted that as a win. Flynn laughed, and she joined in. They settled on their sides, still chuckling, their foreheads resting together. 

“Much better than the couch.” Flynn’s voice was low and went straight to the pit of her stomach. She wanted to agree, because, yes, it was softer, wider, and just all around more comfortable. But her body had already started moving against him, and her answer was lost between their lips. Her leg hooked over his and pulled him towards her where she needed him to touch her. He didn’t resist, his thigh slotting between hers.

The shock zinged up her spine and made it arch back, a lot stronger than she’d expected. She heard herself moan, and if she’d had two brain cells left, she would have been embarrassed at how needy she sounded, but she was overwhelmed by sensation. Flynn’s fingertips touched her chin and he dragged them down her throat to her breastbone. When he cupped her breast, she gasped for air. The muscles in her arms and legs locked, and her head bent back so far that she felt her hair band press into the nape of her neck. His thumb hooked under her bra and simply tugged it out of the way. He licked a broad stripe right across her nipple, and she lost her awareness of her surroundings. All that was left was his tongue and the sparks it sent through her, and the movement of her hips, rubbing against his thigh, making liquid fire pool in her belly. She almost whined when he put his hand in the way, but by then he’d already unzipped her pants and snaked his hand inside and it got so much better. He didn’t have to do anything but move his fingers through the wetness there, and then there was not enough air in her lungs, or too much, and her heart burst. The fire flowed down her legs and up her spine and burned its way out through her skin.

Whooshing sounds enveloped her, and her arms and legs were too heavy to move, but it didn’t matter because Flynn was holding her close. He was petting her hair and his hands slowly stroked down her arms again and again, calming her. He covered her face in small kisses, her eyebrows, her eyelids, her nose. Everything was perfect.


	5. Chapter 5

When Eve woke up, it was completely dark. Her limbs felt heavy and she wondered why. Her brain felt heavy, too. Where was she and why was it so dark? She heard someone breathe and she thought that this should probably alarm her, but it didn’t. She was safe and languid and the sheets were warm, and the breathing sound was regular. Flynn was asleep next to her and everything was fine. 

Flynn. Oh. 

Oh! 

She was in Flynn’s bed, in his windowless bedroom, in the Library. Where she had fallen asleep on him in the middle of sex. She felt sweat break out on her back and pulled the sheet tighter around her. She was still wearing her bra, crookedly, and her unzipped pants. She hadn’t dreamt it, then. She screwed her eyes closed and turned her head into the pillow, cooling her heated cheeks. 

She heard a rustling sound and a yawn, and then Flynn’s low voice saying, “Morning, Eve.”

She froze. Morning? Oh, no. She wasn’t ready to talk to him yet.

“How are you feeling?” 

His hand stroked her hair gently and she couldn’t suppress the shudder going through her at the touch. That probably gave her away. Flynn kept stroking her hair and shoulders. It was such a gentle gesture. The sense memory was just a few hours old and made her relax almost despite herself. How could he be so sweet when she was so—not? She couldn’t take the embarrassment any longer. She turned her head towards him and now that her face wasn’t buried in the pillow anymore, she realized that he’d switched on the light. She was looking directly at him, his face inches from hers. Her gaze slid off his face and focused on his pajamas, which… no, she was sure he hadn’t been wearing those last night.

“Did I fall asleep? During… ?” 

He grinned. “Yes, you did. And you looked so… . Um.” His eyebrows did something complicated that she couldn’t decipher. He rambled on, “I always thought only men fall asleep directly after sex. You have definitely broadened my experience. But, to be fair, as exhausted as you were last night, I was surprised you stayed awake that long.”

Eve winced at every sentence out of his mouth. She doubted that she could get any redder. “I’m glad I could help with your acquisition of new experiences.” She tried to smirk, but it probably just looked like a grimace. 

“I’m not complaining. I’m really not... I’m no expert on sex, but… it was beautiful, and perfect…” His expression took on a faraway look. She was thrown by his delighted reaction. She wasn’t sure what exactly she had expected, but it wasn’t this. He shook himself before he went on, “Besides, you’re awake now.” Looking smug, he added, “So we can do it again.”

She didn’t know what to say. She was still trying to figure out what she was feeling, and now he cheerfully announced that they were going to have sex? 

Her argumentative side was the first to regain control, so what came out of her mouth was, “Oh, we’ll do it again. You think?”

His cheeks turned pink. “Only… I didn’t mean it like that, uh, I just assumed, because you… last night, you… I’m sorry I drew the wrong conclusions. We don’t have to do anything, I’m perfectly happy as it is, and if you don’t want to..., it certainly doesn’t mean, you know.”

Ha. She immediately felt better. 

“In fact, the way I feel about—”

“Shhhh.” She lifted a finger to his lips before he went totally off the rails and said anything else she couldn’t deal with right now. She was unsettled enough as it was.

He snapped his mouth shut and his flush spread to his throat. 

“Don’t worry, Flynn. I’m here of my own free will, and I’m not planning on leaving.” 

Was she? At least he was quiet now, wide-eyed and waiting, and she had time to straighten out her thoughts. She’d certainly followed him here of her own free will, but she couldn’t quite recapture her own mindset from last night. She’d been a little too fast and careless for her own liking, breaking her own resolution not to rush things with Flynn. But every time she tried to concentrate, echoes of last night’s pleasure shot through her and her thoughts scattered. 

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself to calm down and start fresh. She shouldn’t listen to her base instincts. Physical reactions were unreliable, and she would do best to ignore them. 

It didn’t work. Part of her kept insisting that it was important to remember last night. And it wasn’t a physical reaction that her thoughts kept snagging on. It was the last thing she’d seen before falling asleep: Flynn’s face. He had looked so happy. There had been no urgency in his actions, no attempt at seeking his own pleasure, just an expression of wonder.

Her emotions were churning, and she felt far away from solid ground, but there was one thing she knew: she couldn’t leave now. It would feel too much like running away. It would make it so much harder to come back and she couldn’t risk that. Flynn was different, and if she hadn’t completely misconstrued his rambling apology, he would let her go, putting no demands on her. She really couldn’t leave now. 

Morning afters were for getting to know each other, right? Although, technically, it was only the morning after for her, and… why didn’t he take offense at that? She searched Flynn’s face for signs of mockery, but found only hesitation. He was still waiting for her to take her finger off his lips. She had to ask, “You’re really not laughing at me?”

He shook his head and blinked at her, then said against her finger, “Why would I be?”

Eve blinked back, uncomprehending. He was different, and she didn’t understand him, but he was the first person in a long time she’d found this intriguing. He was also infuriating sometimes, but most of all, he was interesting. She simply had to accept the risk of failure.

She belatedly lifted her finger from Flynn’s lips and looked into his eyes, trying to figure out what to say. He leaned back a little and really looked at her. All her words fled as she became conscious of the fact that she was in his bed, with him, covered with just a thin sheet under which she was only half-clothed. She tried not to squirm under his scrutiny, fighting to get her heart rate under control by reminding herself that this was okay, it was Flynn. His gaze softened and his lips parted in a shy smile. He leaned forward again and murmured something that sounded like “I still can’t believe it,” before he kissed her softly. She couldn’t believe it either, and the tension between her shoulder blades eased, flowing out through their kiss. They were in this together, and he seemed just as amazed about it as she was.

He settled next to her and just kept looking at her, his hand resting on her shoulder. This was new. They’d never taken the time to just look at each other, and it felt very intimate. She wondered how many times she’d kissed him and how it was possible that every single one felt like the first time. Now here she was, looking at him, and it felt like she was seeing him for the first time. His eyes were dark and friendly, his gaze moving across her face. The light was painting highlights on his tousled hair. She could feel his breath warm then cool on her chin and throat. His features seemed relaxed, but there was slight tension in the way he didn’t move. There was something in the air between them, but it was exciting rather than frightening. 

She reached out to touch his cheek and he smiled at her. Her fingers wandered up over the crinkled skin next to his eye, making him blink, and on to his forehead. She traced the lines there and let her fingertips glide into his receding hairline. She loved seeing the signs of his age. The tiny specks on his skin, the crinkles around his eyes, scars here and there. She drew her hand through his hair one more time.

He was as old as she was. A little older, actually. She’d checked his files in the Library. Of course, the Library kept files on all its Librarians, and once she’d had that idea, it was as easy as asking the Index for it. So she knew he was 40, barely half a year her senior. He’d survived so many missions, all alone, it boggled the mind. They were both still alive, and he was here with her. It was incredible, all of it. 

She’d lived her life for her career and country and never spared a thought for the future. That part hadn’t changed with her becoming a Guardian. She had even more dangerous opponents now, and reckless charges to boot. What had changed was her outlook on life. Magic was real, and the LITs had grown on her, and Flynn, Flynn was… for the first time in her life, she felt there might be something she’d missed before, something worth holding on to. She let her hand glide over his temple and farther down, feeling the contrast between soft fuzz on his cheek and stubble on the line of his jaw. A slight smile dimpled his cheek, maybe she was tickling him or maybe he was just enjoying her touch. He relaxed again and held completely still for her. It made her heart beat faster.

She’d never met a man like him. Maybe that was the difference between people whose dream job was soldier and people whose dream job was librarian. Maybe she didn’t fit with him. 

But, no. She knew that wasn’t right. Her fingers started their way back up over his face again, this time passing the freckles on his nose and smoothing out the lines between his eyes. It was just that he didn’t fit her expectations. She still kept expecting soldier-like behavior. She wasn’t used to him yet, but she was going to figure him out. Somehow. She let her hand glide through his unruly hair, rippling her fingers over his ear. When she pulled her hand back, Flynn smiled at her and lifted his own hand towards her face. In a low voice he said, “My turn.”

Eve took a breath in anticipation as his smile faded into an openly curious expression. The first thing Flynn touched was her eyebrow, and her eyes closed. She put all her concentration on the movement of his fingers across her skin. He was so gentle, barely touching her at all, and she felt his fingers tremble slightly. She didn’t know whether it was his light touch or her realization that he was nervous that made her shiver. 

He traced his fingers around her eye and over her cheek. She unconsciously lifted her head when he turned his fingers under her jaw, and he ran them across her throat and up the other side. When his little finger crossed her lips, an unbelievable spark shot from the point of contact across her lips, making them tingle all over. She sucked in air, opening her eyes. She just saw Flynn’s widened eyes and flushed cheeks before his hand passed in front of her eyes, blocking her view. 

There was sweat on her forehead, and his fingers slid easily over her skin and down her nose. The pads of his fingers bounced off her upper lip onto her lower lip one after the other, and she must have moved her head and opened her mouth, because the last one slipped inside and slid wetly over the inside of her lower lip. 

She gasped and he pulled his hand back immediately, looking at her in surprise, his lips parted like her own, his hand hovering an inch from her mouth. He kept looking at her eyes, not her mouth, as he slowly approached her lips again. He skimmed her lower lip with his index finger, deliberately this time, and it was so hard to keep her eyes open. He pressed his fingertip to her teeth, exploring their uneven surface. 

Her heart was beating too fast, but she managed to hold his gaze. Until his fingertip ventured over her teeth and met the tip of her tongue, which was when he closed his eyes and took an audible breath. That reaction made her bold and she slipped her tongue around his finger, drawing it into her mouth. It tasted salty and rough and she could feel every callus. He kept moving his finger against her tongue, his eyes still closed, his face slack. She listened to the sound of his breathing and watched his eyebrows twitch at the movements of her tongue. When she sucked the length of his finger into her mouth, he gave a low moan and his whole body shivered. 

His legs shifted and his foot bumped her shin, making her shift in response, suddenly aware again of her whole body next to his. He was looking at her from under half-closed eyelids when she snaked her hand towards him again. She let her thumb glide across his lower lip, but instead of accepting the offer of his parted lips, she cupped his jaw and drew her hand down into the collar of his pajamas. 

No surprise at all, he was wearing an old-fashioned pajama top with buttons in the front. It was a bit of déjà vu as she undid the first button, but this time she was in no hurry, and he wasn’t wearing as many layers. She could just barely feel a bit of chest hair under her fingertips. It was thrilling to discover him like this, and she was going to take her time. She undid another button, curled her fingers into the patch of hair, and moved her hand around as far as the opening of his collar and his arm between them allowed. The third button came free on its own, increasing her radius. It was completely by accident that she brushed her fingers over his nipple. 

A shudder ran through his body, and he inhaled sharply. She’d been lazily rubbing her tongue against his finger, but now it twitched and she sucked on it again. She was rewarded with a low moan. Her stomach flipped at the sound, and she really wanted to hear it again, so she retraced the path of her fingers back over his nipple. The moan got louder, his legs moved restlessly, and her stomach flipped again. 

Maybe she didn’t want to take that much time after all. 

Before she could really set her mind to it, Flynn drew his finger out of her mouth and held her wrist. “Wait,” he whispered. 

Eve’s hand stilled. She had another flashback to the night before, but realized quickly that there was nothing to worry about this time. They had protection, and they had time. She looked into his soft brown eyes and nodded. “Okay, take your time.” 

He let go of her wrist, leaving behind a cold fingerprint, and reached for her shoulder. The sheet had already slipped open a little from the movement of her arm, and Flynn watched her reaction as he pushed it farther down. She knew she needn’t be embarrassed to show her breasts in front of Flynn, but it wasn’t just that she was undressed, she was disheveled, her bra bunched above her left breast. She barely avoided moving her arm to shield herself, but Flynn noticed her discomfort anyway. 

“Hm. What have I done there? Shoddy work,” he smiled at her crookedly. 

She couldn’t help laughing at his transparent attempt at distracting her with humor. “So, what do you intend to do about it? Finish the job?” She moved back a little so she could turn onto her stomach. “Do your best, Librarian.”

He sat up in the bed beside her and pulled the sheet down below the clasp of her bra. “Oh my, how I hate these things.”

She tried to smother her laugh in the cushion but failed, her shoulders shaking too much.

Petulantly, Flynn complained, “Honestly. I have 22 degrees but these still stump me.” He gingerly pulled at the straps, leaned over her to study the clasp intently, and then finally managed to open it. 

Eve shrugged out of the bra and rolled back onto her side. “Congratulations, Librarian, you did it. The hardest part of the upper-class twit of the year contest mastered in record time.” 

He laughed, “So you’re the débutante in this scenario? You do know that Queen Elizabeth II ended the tradition of débutante balls in 1958.” He propped himself up on his elbow next to her, looking smug.

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Oh, really.” How relevant. Again, she was trying not to laugh. His tendency to spout trivia at inopportune moments was inexplicably attractive.

“Yes, really. But of course they are still held in several states today. So you actually could have been…”

“What? A débutante? Not a chance.”

“Oh. You would have looked dazzling in a white dress and all the men would have lined up to dance with you.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face and continued, “No wonder, because you’d have been the most radiant beauty at the ball.”

This was getting ridiculous. She pushed herself up to a sitting position, putting some distance between them. She huffed. Why did men always assume that she’d like compliments about her looks? But this probably wasn’t the time to get into a debate of principles with him. 

“Shut up and let me undress you.” No, that didn’t come out the way she’d intended. He shouldn’t have talked such nonsense. Radiant beauty, ha.

Flynn just laughed and answered, “As you wish, milady.” He sat up, spreading his arms in invitation. Like this, it seemed a lot more embarrassing to undo the rest of his buttons, but she didn’t hesitate and got it over with. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes as she pushed the shirt off his shoulders, but he presented such an unassuming figure, the embarrassment was quickly replaced by affection. He was so cute, the way he was waiting for a sign from her, absolutely willing to follow where she led. If she’d had any doubt in her mind before, now she was absolutely sure she’d made the right decision by staying. 

She touched her hand to Flynn’s chest and gently pushed, and he let himself fall back onto the bed, laughing softly. He crossed his hands behind his head, looking for all the world like he was offering himself to her.

Eve smiled back at him and took him up on it. She touched her fingers to his belly carefully. There was dark hair on it. Not as much as on his chest, but enough to make her fingertips tingle. Now that he was lying down, his belly looked less round than when he’d been sitting up, but it was still soft. Another sign of his age that she found adorable and somehow reassuring.

She followed the curve of it around to his waist, keeping well away from his pajama pants, and then moved her hand up his side. When it approached his armpit, he twitched—he must be ticklish. A Dirty Dancing image popped up in her mind and she grinned at the unfitting comparison. She shifted closer to Flynn, settling next to his hip so she had the best reach across his body. She rested her left hand on his thigh and moved her right around his armpit and across his collarbones. 

She ruffled his chest hair a bit, going back and forth; she was really beginning to like it. She trailed her fingers down his other side, feeling his body move beneath her hands. Breathing in when she reached his bellybutton and out again as she passed his ribs. _In_ when she was in the middle of his chest, _out_ passing the ribs on his right. There was a scar on his left side that she always crossed on the way up, and a birthmark that she circled on the way down. It was almost meditative and she felt herself—and Flynn—relax with the repetitive motion. 

Until she passed close to his nipple and his breath hitched. Her eyes snapped to his face. His lips were slightly parted, his head tipped to one side, his eyes half-lidded but tracking the movement of her hand. He was letting her lead and she didn’t see any signs that he didn’t like where she was leading. She ventured closer to his nipples and watched his eyes slide closed every time she came near and slowly reopen when her hand had passed. He was beautiful to watch, open and trusting. Waiting for her to take the next step.

That was easy. All she wanted to do was make him feel good. She kept watching his face as she reached a nipple and gently nudged it as she passed over it. His mouth dropped open and a low sigh escaped as his eyebrows twitched. _Going slow_ , she reminded herself. She stuck to her rounds, alternately passing each nipple, and watched how Flynn’s breathing became irregular. Eve’s own nipples hardened and tingled in response to his body shuddering under her touch. His eyes were now permanently closed, and after a while he started panting. He did not make a move to stop her, or to touch her, obviously lost in sensation. God, it was beautiful. She could watch him and listen to him forever.

Eve’s hips unconsciously shifted and she was shocked to realize how wet she was. That was it, she’d gone slow long enough. She leaned forward to kiss him and he strained against her, capturing her mouth before she was all the way down. He moaned into it, and his arms went around her, his hands cool on her lower back. She stretched out and let herself sink half on top of him, her hypersensitive nipples sending shocks through her as they came in contact with his skin. Her tongue delved into his mouth, and his tongue pushed back, warm and wet and urgent. 

When she slung her leg across his body, she brushed over his dick, a hard line against her thigh, and his body tensed all over, his hips lifting off the bed. He broke away from their kiss, moaning, “Eve…”

“Yeah,” was all she managed to get out, rolling off him to give him room. She used the time it took him to get a condom from the pack to strip out of her pants and underwear. She chucked her clothes off the bed, preferring not to think about how soaked they were, and turned back to watch Flynn. 

He was trying to shake off his pajama pants and open a condom wrapper at the same time. It didn’t, of course, make it any faster, but Eve didn’t feel like helping. She was fascinated by his dick, long and lean, curving to touch the hairs on his belly, the blunt head shining a glossy dark pink. It jumped in his hand as he took hold of it and rolled on the condom. She wanted to touch it, and smell it, and taste it. Not today; as it was, the smell of latex was overpowering everything else. But she could save that for another time. She was absolutely sure there would be another time. Excitement made her stomach clench at the thought, and she turned back towards Flynn, melting against him. He turned to meet her, too, pulling her in, his dick pressing against her. 

She shuddered and was suddenly conscious of the fact that she hadn’t done this in years. When he slid his arm down to her butt, she tilted her hips away from him at the right moment, so his hand landed closer to the front of her thigh. She sighed in approval, writhing under his hand, and pressed a kiss to his lips. He bent to kiss her, too, the tip of his tongue teasing her lips, while he let his hand run through her pubic hair. Warm shivers ran down her back as his fingers moved a little farther down every time. Her hips moved against his hand involuntarily, and suddenly his finger slipped inside her. Her whole body went taut, warmth spreading outward, making her fingers and toes curl. 

Oh, god. That felt better than everything else before it. 

Flynn seemed to agree. A surprised gasp reached her ears and his body bucked in her arms. He pulled out his finger and let it glide in at a slightly different angle, setting off another tingling wave, making her moan. All her muscles went lax, and she couldn’t do anything but give in to it. 

Eve had no idea how much time passed, but the sensations went on and on. He crooked his finger a little, and more sparks ran along her nerves. She couldn’t believe how good it felt. 

She surfaced from her bliss when Flynn started whispering into her ear, “You’re so amazing, you have no idea. I could do this forever. I never knew you could get this wet. I thought you were wet last night, but this… look at you. You’re amazing, Eve.”

The reminder of last night was finally enough to rouse her. “Flynn…” It still sounded like a moan. She tried again. “Flynn, if you don’t stop now, it’ll end like last night.”

“I loved last night. I don’t have anything against that,” he answered, still whispering. “This is the happiest you could make me. There’s nothing better than this.” But he did remove his finger, instead cupping his hand around her. He planted a few small kisses against her ear, apparently unable to keep still.

Finally, the fog lifted from her brain and she could move again. She hooked her leg over his hip, pulling him against her, trapping his hand between them. He helpfully moved it out of the way and she drew him closer, feeling his dick press hard against her pelvis. Her instinctual reaction was to angle her hips forward, but it still surprised her when it made his dick slip down against her entrance. She reached down between them, reassured herself that the condom was still on, and guided him to slowly enter her. A shiver ran up her spine and Flynn gasped, his arms trembling against her. Even though she was indescribably wet, and there was no uncomfortable friction, she could feel how much he stretched her. She hadn’t done this in so long, and she’d forgotten what the intrusion into her body felt like. The angle wasn’t ideal, and her right arm was uselessly trapped under her, but she didn’t want to change anything. This way, she had control over Flynn’s movements and could keep it slow and steady. 

Pulling back and angling in a little more felt better each time. The tingling waves from before were starting to rise again. Flynn’s eyes were screwed shut, his mouth wide open, making him look far away, but she knew he was with her from the way he moved with her. 

He held her close, his fingers splayed between her shoulder blades, and he moved his hips so carefully, she was barely guiding him anymore. With every inch, she felt more stretched, but at the same time, the way he filled her soothed an ache she hadn’t even known she’d had. 

Eve tried to relax around him, shivering through the sparks each stroke sent along her nerves. The length of his dick had been sliding smoothly across her finger, and she was surprised when the base hit her finger. He was all the way inside her. Her muscles pulsed around him at the thought, making her moan. Flynn moaned, too, and his hips twitched, pushing her finger against her clit, drowning out all conscious thought. They both started moving their hips more urgently, and the tip of each stroke set off sparks inside her. She heard her own moans get louder, and her shoulders were starting to shake in Flynn’s hold. The rest of her body followed and she contracted around him, fireworks going off behind her eyelids. They seemed to be going off in her ears, too. She only heard Flynn shout out from far away before he slumped against her, burrowing his head into the crook of her shoulder.

She fleetingly wondered whether it was healthy for her heart to be beating this fast, and for a while she could do nothing at all but keep on breathing hard. 

Flynn’s arm was a dead weight on her side, his cool breaths gusting across her heated skin. Her overloaded nerves still hadn’t stopped prickling, aftershocks overlapping whenever her muscles throbbed or he gave a feeble twitch inside her. 

She let the sensations wash over her, until her brain was starting to get back into gear, insisting that they’d taken an irreversible step, and she suddenly felt like she was hurtling down a cliff face. Even though her limbs were still buzzing, she forced herself to move. She wrapped her arms and her leg around Flynn and pulled him as close as possible. Her arms were starting to tremble as she embraced him with all her strength, needing him closer, keeping him with her, inside of her, and even that was not enough. She heard him moan at the pressure, but he didn’t resist. He just tightened his arms around her and crushed her to him just as strongly, and that was when she knew. He felt it, too, they were falling together, holding on, and it was reassuring to feel their constricting grip against her lungs with every shallow breath.

Finally, the need lessened and faded, and her exhausted arms loosened up. It felt good to take a deep breath again. Flynn exhaled shakily next to her ear and twisted in her embrace until he was looking directly into her eyes. There was that expression of wonder on his face again, and as he lightly kissed her lips, it felt a lot more like flying than falling.


End file.
